“That’s none of my business; they’ve no right to make a public highway of these premises.  You heard what I said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then let it be done.”

“Obey orders, if you break owners,” muttered Ben, as Mr. Bolton turned and marched away with long and hasty strides.  “But if there isn’t a nice tea-party somewhere about these diggins before to-morrow morning, my name isn’t Ben Johnson.”

Before reaching his house, Mr. Bolton’s excitement had cooled a trifle, and it came into his mind that possibly he might have acted a little hastily; but the order had been given to cut off the right of way, and he was not the man to “make back-tracks” in any thing.

“Do you see that, Edward?” said Mrs. Bolton, as her husband entered the house, pointing to a table on which stood a pitcher of sweet cream and two pounds of fresh butter.  “Mrs. Halpin sent these over, with her compliments, this morning; isn’t it kind in her?”

Mrs. Bolton’s countenance was glowing with pleasure.

“I always heard that she was a neighbourly, good woman,” added Mrs. Bolton.

“I don’t think much of her husband,” returned Mr. Bolton, coldly, as he passed from the room after pausing there for only a moment.  He could not look at the lumps of golden butter and the pitcher of cream without feeling rebuked, and so he got away as quickly as possible.

“Have you done as I directed?” said Mr. Bolton, with knit brows, on meeting Ben, some time afterwards, returning from the part of the farm where he had left him.

“Yes, sir,” was the answer of Ben.

“What did you do with the gate?”

“I threw it into the field, as you told me.”

“You didn’t break it?”

“No, sir.”

“Very well.”

“There’ll be trouble, Mr. Bolton,” said Ben.

“How do you know?”

“Mr. Halpin’s a very determined man.”

“So am I,” replied Mr. Bolton.

“Mr. Dix says the right of way belongs to Mr. Halpin, and no mistake.”

“When did he say so?”

“Just now.  He came down from his house, when he saw me at work, and asked what I was doing; and when I told him, he said you were wrong, and would only get yourself into trouble; that Mr. Halpin’s farm had the right of way through yours.”

“Tell Mr. Dix, when you see him again, not to meddle in my affairs,” replied Mr. Bolton.  “I am entirely competent to manage them myself; I want no assistance.”

As Mr. Bolton turned from Ben, on uttering this speech, he saw Mr. Dix, who owned another farm that adjoined his, approaching the place where he stood.

“I want none of his interference,” muttered Bolton to himself.  Then forcing a smile into his face, he met his neighbour with a pleasant greeting.

“You will excuse me,” said Mr. Dix, after a few words had passed between them, “for a liberty I am about to take.  I saw your man, a little while ago, closing up the gate that opens from your farm into Mr. Halpin’s.”